#had an allergy attack all day

[homo-house]

Im tiredddd so tired this antihistamine has taken me out

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

I feel like psychoactive substances don’t work on me like they do on most people because my normal state of mind makes me feel like I’m trippy and stoned 24/7 as it is.

[cuntwrap--supreme]

So close to being finished with my post office training! I just have to do my driver's test next Thursday and I'm officially an assistant rural carrier! Which is step one in becoming a full time employee and receiving those sweet, sweet government job bennies. But also, it's a lot of sorting and shit, and tism go brrrrrrrr with that.

[save-mohamed-family]

My campaign is verified and added to the Gaza Donations page with number 192.

Thank you for documenting my campaign from the following accounts:

@sar-soor @heba-20 @el-shab-hussein @90-ghost @soon-palestine@ibtisams @marnota @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @i-am-aprl @northgazaupdates @fallahifag @fairuzfan

I love you all 🙏🙏♥️🌹

I am Mohammed Almanasra, 32 years old, married, and a father of three children: Abdulrahman, 6 years old, Sarah, 4 years old, and Lina, 3 years old.

My story began with the loss of my parents and four of my sisters, who were bombed and lost their lives along with their children after the events of October 7 and the severe war on Gaza. Now, I am facing a severe injury to my leg, which is at risk of amputation if I do not receive the necessary treatment. My wife, children, and I are displaced, without parents or siblings, and my wife is also suffering from uterine cancer.

Recently, I moved to the south of the Gaza Strip, fearing for the lives of my children. We left behind our memories and our new home, for which we had not finished paying the installments, in addition to losing my job. Currently, I live in a tent that does not protect me from the heat of summer or the cold of winter, and without the minimum necessary livinng basics including water, food medical care, clothe and even bedding .

I suffer from a chronic asthma and severe attacks from tightness and an extreme allergy in the ear and I need medicine that are not available, or very expensive .

Under these difficult circumstances, after five attempts at displacement and narrowly escaping death from the bombing, I am trying with all my might to protect my family, the most precious thing I have.

My dreams were shattered, and my house was destroyed, and I found myself living in a tent no larger than 4 square metres. My work turned from a tailor to a street vendor in order to barely buy a few crumbs of bread to feed my children.

Look at what happened to my children because of the intense heat and the insects that thrive in the summer season. Every day, I take them to the hospital to treat them due to poisonous insect bites. I implore every kind-hearted soul to help me protect my children.

My son, Abdul Rahman, has a deep passion for playing football and is a devoted fan of Real Madrid. He always dreamed of playing football at his school, but the war prevented this dream from coming true.

Where are you, Real Madrid fans ?

Help Abdul Rahman achieve his dream.

Every donation will make an enormous difference in helping me save my family.

I feel very sad and embarrassed to ask for help, but I have no other options left. I know that this request is difficult, but I also know that there is still humanity and living consciences and I believe in miracles.

Your support during this extremely difficult time will give us hope in the midst of devastation and despair.

If you have any inquiries or questions, feel free to ask me, please!

To everyone with a compassionate heart,

To all who understand the essence of humanity,

This is a message from my innocent children, who trust that their words will reach everyone who truly understands the meaning of childhood.

We cry out to you, asking you to feel our sorrow and pain, and to extend a helping hand to us in this time when we are in desperate need of your mercy and compassion.

My name is being repeatedly added to many public and private donation campaigns. Please, be a support for me in this difficult situation.

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/u/0/d/1yYkNp5U3ANwILl2MknJi9G7ArY4uVTEEQ1CVfzR8Ioo/htmlview

Sincere greetings & thanks

Mohammed & the family

[beast-of-the-void]

.

[arandomao3user]

Felt bored, here's my projecting health issues onto the Batfam again:

Alfred, setting down a pharmacy bag, inhaling sharply: COME GET YOUR DRUGS!

Bruce, dragging himself in:

Tim, slowly looking up from his phone with a dead eyed expression: If it isn't a monster energy drink and seventeen caffeine pills I no no want it.

Cass: I am not on drugs?

Dick: It's our prescriptions, Cass.

Jason: You people are the reason I carry narcan around.

Alfred: You're all on enough prescriptions to fill a pharmacy. Now, let's begin...

Alfred, raising a pill bottle: Pain medication for Master Bruce for the back pain Bane inflicted on him from his wonderful career choices! Unfortunately we don't have the several other medications he should be taking for his mental state...

Bruce: Alfred, please...

Alfred, raising another two pill bottles: Anti-inflammatory and pain medication for Master Dick for his hypermobility he refuses to see a doctor for.

Dick, taking the pills: It's not that painful, Alfie, it's just my bones being slackers :D

Alfred: Master Jason's anti psychotics for the psychosis caused by the Lazarus Pit.

Jason: My therapist is less concerned than last week!

Alfred: Wonderful news, Master Jason... Master Tim, your sleeping pills and anemia medication.

Tim, slowly standing before promptly passing out because POTS sucks:

Alfred, sighing: Somebody please see to it that Master Timothy did not receive another concussion.

Alfred: Master Dick, your ADHD medication.

Dick: I forgot I take these.

Alfred: We know, master Dick.

Bruce, inspecting Tim: Have I failed as a Father?

Alfred: No more than I have. Now, Miss Cassandra, your anxiety medication.

Cass: Thank you, Alfred.

Alfred: You are most welcome, dear. Damian, your allergy pills since you insist on surrounding yourself with farm animals.

Damian: Tt, a runny nose and itchy eyes are a small price to pay for love, Pennyworth.

Alfred: Bipolar medication for Miss Stephanie.

Stephanie: Do you need to announce what the pills are for..?

Alfred: Master Bruce keeps all your information stored on a supercomputer anyone can look at if they guess his password, which is just Master Dick's birthday—

Jason: WHAT!? IT USED TO BE MINE!

Cass: Hurt.

Stephanie: Utter betrayal.

Dick: Wait really??

Bruce: Hrn...

Alfred: And Master Jason's inhaler.

Jason: Wish I had this when I was inhaling all that smoke and died from an asthma attack!

Dick: . . . WHAT!?

Cass: You what?

Jason: B never told you? Yeah, it wasn't the bomb or crowbar that did it, it was the smoke.

Jason: Haha.

Jason: My inhaler broke from the impact.

Jason: I spent my final moments suffocating.

Jason: I died painfully.

Bruce: Hrn...

Tim, slowly coming back to consciousness: Did I die?

Alfred: And Master Tim's testerone.

Tim: Nice. Dick drugs.

Alfred: . . . And birth control.

Tim: Yay, de-baby-nators.

Bruce, sighing: I have failed as a Father...

Jason: Wait, why doesn't Duke have to take medication?

Duke: I do, I just pick it up myself so I don't have to be put through this embarrassment.

Bruce: Are we done here?

Alfred: Yes, thank you for allowing me my weekly enjoyment of having the family in one place and admitting you're all deeply troubled.

Alfred: Good day.

—

[oceantornadoo]

merry xmas! some platonic family fluff with johnny for y’all

ch3 the wrong john | masterlist | next

john price x f!reader, reader is johnny’s twin

—

When you wake, John is gone.

Predictable, really. Isn’t that what you wanted? A simple fuck, something to hold you over before sticking around this unknown city for however long Johnny tolerated you. John’s dirty talk and possessive demeanor had woken something inside you and now it was gone, lost to hotel sheets and your alcohol-drenched brain. For some odd, unimportant reason, you felt a sense of disappointment that he didn’t stay. You scanned your bedtable for a note or something and came up empty. A feeling of abandonment sank low in your stomach and you tried to tune it out by focusing on the fun you’d had with John. One of your hands slithered down your naked stomach, eyes closing as you tried to recreate a scene from a few hours ago when John woke you up with his tongue. “Open those legs f’ me, that’s a good girl.” You squeezed your eyes shut in an effort to imagine John’s deep baritone. “C’mon, one more. Jus’ f’ me, yeah?” You found yourself nodding along to that phantom voice, fingers circling your sore clit harder and harder, orgasm starting to crest and-

Ding!

Your phone, abandoned in your bag somewhere, was hit with a barrage of texts. You checked the clock and shit, it was already 9:30am. So much for primping before visiting Johnny. With legs like jelly, you slowly walked over and dug through your purse to find your half-dead phone.

Idiot half: We still on for 1000?

Idiot half: Was going to suggest breakfast but training is going over time, fucking rookies. Think the team’s free for lunch if you want.

Idiot half: Let me know when you’re on the way.

Your heart ached with the sincerity Johnny showed over text. He was all jokes in public, but when it was just you two, you could feel your twin’s want for your affection. You two were more similar than you gave credit to. Plugging in your phone, you texted him back a “might be a little late!”, then jumped into the shower and started your day.

45 minutes later, your cab pulled up in front of a stoic-looking military base. “‘Fraid I can’t get ya any closer, miss. This one’s real locked down.” You thanked the driver anyways, paying him then stepping out. Before you could even wonder how to actually get in (should you just walk to the drive up? That seemed undignified), there was a figure with a ridiculous mohawk striding past the front guards, dressed in fully fatigues. 

“M'eudail!” The stupid urge to run towards Johnny bubbled up inside you, a remnant of your shared childhood. Instead, you quickened your walking pace until you met him at a guarded entrance, blinking twice at how it looked more like a prison than a place of work. Johnny disregarded the guards and attacked you with a hug, his familiar scent of pine and musk invading your senses. Tears were forming in your eyes for some unknown reason, surely not connected to a reunion with your twin.

“Missed ye, hen.” You nodded against him where your cheek was tucked into the curve of his neck. He’d certainly gotten beefier since the last time you saw him, his shoulder muscles digging into your arms around his upper half. “Missed you too, Johnny.” You pulled back a little and Johnny noticed the tears before you could wipe them away. His thumbs were callused but gentle, swiping at your skin until it was dry. “Knew I was y’r favorite.” You scoffed, not meeting his eyes. “Shut up, Johnny. It’s allergies.” He tugged you back into his arms, his stupid twin telepathy reading you too well. “Aye, I ken. Y’know I love you too.” Johnny held you until your tears dried, being a complete gentleman and not acknowledging how puffy your eyes had become when you pulled back. 

“Thought I was here to meet your boyfriend, huh? Or is he conveniently ‘off base’?” You used finger quotes to emphasize your rag. Johnny rolled his eyes, tucking you under his arm and marching you into a scary-looking building. It was so utilitarian it made your eyes burn, all slick concrete and bulletproof windows. Not exactly warm and fuzzy.

“Yer jus’ jealous because yer single, hen. I see right through ye.” He marched you both straight past the guards, then produced a visitor pass out of one of his many pockets and put it around your neck. “Pretty necklace, just for ye.” You rolled your eyes, then elbowed him in the side. No matter what, Johnny could always make you act like a moody teenager. 

You bickered back and forth as Johnny showed you around. “An’ here’s the mess.” (“Bet they cook better than you, Johnny.”) “Common room.” (“Do you guys play shooter games or is that too close to home?”) “Finally, ‘eres where we’re goin’. Trainin’ room.”

It was more than a room, it was a building. It seemed at least two basketball gyms wide, filled with training equipment, a track, and tools that seemed more fit to be in a torture chamber. At one corner of the room, there was a massive hunk of a man yelling at scrawny soldiers you figured were recruits. He was built like a tree, legs and arms thick as trunks while his face was covered with a plain black balaclava. He looked like an intruder you’d had nightmares about.

“An’ ‘eres the L.T. Or Ghost if ye think he’s scary lookin’. The boyfriend, but that’s confidential.” Johnny winked as your mouth dropped. This was the “cuddly fucker” your brother was in love with? He seemed more fit to be the Winter Soldier.

Ghost looked up at the sight of you two approaching. He barked something to the recruits and they scattered, sprinting towards the weightlifting equipment like their lives depended on it. With the way Ghost looked, it might be true.

“Alright, love?” Who was he talking to? You glanced around and oh, Johnny was nodding. You couldn’t have even imagined Ghost would call your brother love in a soft-sounding tone. “‘Ere she is, L.T.. My baby sister.” You rolled your eyes unconsciously. He was older by three minutes.

“Nice to, um, meet you. Johnny didn’t mention it was Halloween year-round here.” Stupid, stupid, stupid. The joke just burst out of your mouth, not even checking in with your brain first. All you could do was watch for his reaction in the stunned silence.

“Johnny, ya didn’t say she was funnier tha’ you. Welcome t’ base, bird.” He pulled you in for a one-armed hug that was over before it started, ruffling your hair before pushing you back out. You glanced back at Johnny and he gave you a wink, pride evident in his face. It warmed your belly and spread to your heart, relaxing your shoulders and spine. Everything was fine. In fact, you probably didn’t even need a drink last night. That thought turned to John real fast, and you shut it down before it started something.

Johnny was clearly the talker of the two, ushering you both out of the training room to meet “Gaz and Cap.” It conjured thoughts of an old-time captain, a man with white hair and a big belly. Wait, maybe that was Santa? Your lack of sleep was really impacting your critical thinking skills.

Excitement and nerves were written clear as day on Johnny’s face as you three neared an official-looking door. He stopped outside of it, Simon at his shoulder blocking the name plate you guessed held their captain’s name. They glanced at each other and Simon squeezed his bicep, words of encouragement flowing unspoken between them. For a second, the smallest millisecond, you felt that familiar yearning for an easy bond like theirs. Something private and sacred.

Johnny nodded to no one in particular, then knocked twice on the door. A muffled “come in” followed swiftly, and he opened the door partially. There was a man sitting in a chair near the door with a baseball hat blocking most of his face. “Bonnie, ‘eres Gaz.” You waved shyly, intimidated by the blinding half-smile he sent your way when he tilted his face up. Your mouth opened, about to ask if he was a Lieutenant too, when Johnny opened the door all the way and pushed you towards the man sitting behind the desk.

“An’ ‘eres the Captain, Cap’n Price.” Your mouth, clearly having disconnected from the rest of your brain, stayed open at the sight before you. At the sight you’d seen 12 hours before in a dark bar, 6 hours before tangled in your sheets, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear. He seemed to remember that fact as well, blazing eyes locking onto yours like there was no one else in the room.

“But you can call me John, sweetheart.”

-

if y’all want updates a bit earlier, subscribe to my ao3 for notifs on this story :)

taglist: @lveegsoi @galactict3a @nova-willow-541 @sirbonesly @starlightkitten19

[ironstrange1991]

The Healing Touch

Pairing: Stephen!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: The Reader has a terrible headache and Stephen goes full doctor mode to take care of her

Word Count: 4,1k

A/N: This fic is total self indulgent. The entire medical part is based on my experience with the worst headache I've ever had in my life. I had to take something positive from the whole situation. Hope you guys like it and have a nice reading ;)

You had never had such a bad headache in your entire life. It was strong enough to bring tears to your eyes and prevent you from working. It had all started with an allergy attack due to the renovation work in the office building where you worked. Even taking the anti-allergy medication you were used to taking, things only got worse and soon your airways were completely blocked and you had an incessant cough that made you want to vomit your guts out.

But things got worse when you woke up on Friday with a headache that simply wouldn't go away no matter how many painkillers you took. The persistent pain got worse over the days, reaching its peak on Monday morning. When you woke up, you simply couldn't open your eyes, and when you tried to get up, your head hurt with a piercing throb that made you sit down again and fall into silent tears. 

It was a nightmare. Stephen was on mission and you hadn't been able to talk to him in the last few days. You were practically married to a doctor, but you couldn't count on him to help you when you needed it most and that only made you cry even more, giving in to despair.

After a few minutes you forced yourself to get up and staggered to the bathroom where you forced yourself into the shower, hoping that the cold water would somehow help you, but there was no improvement. As you were changing your clothes, feeling dizzy from the strength of the pain and the throbbing in your forehead, you decided that you would take a taxi and go straight to the hospital. By that point, your anxious mind was already telling you that you had a brain tumor.

You were slowly walking down the stairs, each step you took making your head ache even more, when you heard the familiar hiss of a portal opening in the entrance hall. You didn't feel excited, already imagining it was Wong and the light coming from the windows and the door barely allowed you to open your eyes to see anything, but then you heard a baritone voice informing you that it was Stephen who had arrived.

"Sweetheart? What's wrong?" His voice was a big relief, although it sounded extremely worried and as if by magic - which it was - he was by your side, helping you to put your arm around his neck and picking you up. He quickly went downstairs and took you to the nearest sofa in the main hall and knelt in front of you. Cloaky let go of his shoulders and flew nervously across the room, stopping behind the sofa and watching you.

Stephen's presence, although a relief, made you succumb to tears again.

"Hey, Y/n, look at me, tell me what's going on, you look pale. What are you feeling?" He asked, going into full doctor mode and forcing your eyes open so he could examine them.

"My head is exploding." You finally managed to speak. "It's been hurting since Friday, but today it's unbearable, Stephen. I can't handle the pain."

Stephen conjured a small flashlight to examine your pupils and then hummed to himself looking relieved. "The pupils are normal. That's good. Can you follow my finger, please?" He asked, raising his index finger to the level of your eyes and directing it to the left and then to the right slowly. You followed the movement with your eyes to which he praised.

"Very good. Now tell me how many fingers you see." He asked, showing you three fingers.

"Three."

"Very good. And now?" He showed you one finger.

"One."

"Good. One more time. How many fingers?" He asked, closing his fist.

"None."

He nodded, sighing in relief. But the small wrinkle that always appeared between his eyebrows was still there.

"How is your vision? Can you see perfectly or is it blurry? Any black spots or spots of light?"

You shook your head. "I can see, but I can't keep my eyes open because the light makes it hurt even more." You whimpered. "The pain is too bad, Stephen. I don't know what to do."

Stephen shushed you, putting the small flashlight aside and bringing his two thumbs to your forehead, positioning them just above your eyebrows and pressing them there in circular motions.

"Fuck." You hissed.

"I hit the spot, didn't I? Here is where it hurts the most?"

You nodded. "And inside of my eyes and on my cheeks. It feels like my whole face hurts. Even my teeth."

He hummed positively but remained silent, moving his fingers from your forehead to your cheekbones and down to the joint of your jaw, putting some pressure there.

"It hurts so much, Stephen. What if I have a brain tumor? Or... or an aneurysm? What if I have an aneurysm?" Your voice was getting shakier and shakier, and heavy tears fell from your eyes. "I don't want to die, Stephen. I don't want to." You said, clinging to him and hiding your face in his neck as you gave in to crying again.

Stephen wrapped you in his arms, one of his hands stroking your hair as he shushed you. "You're not going to die, sweetheart, and you don't have an aneurysm or a brain tumor." He said, trying to reassure you.

"But it hurts too much." You whimpered.

"I know. I'll make it stop. I promise. I'm here now. But you need to let me go so I can go to the drug store to get your medication."

But the idea seemed absurd to you and instead of letting him go, you tightened your arms around him even more, which made him grunt softly and pull your hands away gently.

"What you have is called sinusitis. It's a serious inflammation of the airways that causes secretions to build up in this region here." He explained, pulling you away enough so he could illustrate what he was saying. He ran his index finger along your cheekbones and above your nose. "Because of the inflammation, you feel pain here." He continued moving his finger down to your jaw. "That's why your teeth hurt too." You nodded.

"But why does my head have to hurt so much? I don't understand." You asked, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand.

"Because the inflammation causes the facial muscles to tense up, which causes all the pain." He explained, standing up, but you held his hand tightly.

"Don't leave me alone. Please."

Stephen sighed. "I really need to go, love. The sooner you get your medication, the faster you'll get rid of the pain. Isn't that what you want?" He asked and you nodded, but kept holding his hand anyway.

"I had an idea. What if Clocky stays with you while I go, huh? Do you think that's a good idea?"

Before you could even answer, you felt the sentient relic moving excitedly behind you.

"It really loves you, you know?" Stephen insisted and you finally let go of his hand and watched him gesticulate with his head for the relic to come closer. Cloaky quickly flew over the couch and wrapped you in a comfortable hug. One of the things you loved about it - besides the fact that it was a magical piece of clothing that had thoughts and feelings just like Aladdin's carpet and you thought that was amazing - was that it smells like Stephen.

The warmth and soft touch comforted you somehow and you leaned against the back of the couch and curled your legs up trying to get as comfortable as possible.

"That's great, sweetie. I'll be back in a minute. I promise." He said and with a quick gesture of his fingers his robes were exchanged for jeans and a shirt and he walked quickly towards the door.

...

Stephen hated waiting in line. He had always been impatient, but ever since he learned the mystic arts he simply couldn't accept that there were things he couldn't solve with magic. Sure, he could open a portal and get the medication he needed, but that would be stealing and he considered himself an honest enough guy to do that. So there he was waiting in line at the checkout with a basket in his hand, waiting for the woman to pass the purchases of the person in front of him with an almost deliberate slowness while everyone in the drug store continued to stare at him in the strange way that everyone else stared at him when they recognized him.

When it was finally his turn, the woman named Katia looked at him with a sour face and said in a tedious manner, "Prescription, please."

Stephen sighed, "I don't have a prescription. I'm a doctor. The medication is for me." He lied shamelessly.

The woman cast a suspicious look at the basket and then at him. "I'll need to see your license."

Stephen sighed, letting his irritation show. "Come on, you know who I am. Everyone knows I'm a doctor."

"I'll need your license, sir."

Stephen sighed, taking out his wallet and opening it with difficulty because his hands were shaking more then usual. He took the document and showed it to her, then put it back.

"That's 145 dollars." She said, finally putting the boxes inside a plastic bag and handing it to him.

"Keep the change for the wonderful service." He said ironically, handing her the money and finally leaving the drug store and returning to the usual movement of Manhattan.

When Stephen finally returned home, it seemed like it had taken hours, but it had only been 25 minutes. He found you still in the same position, cuddled with Cloaky and with your eyes closed. He quickly moved his fingers, closing all the curtains in the room and approaching.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I tried to go as fast as I could..." He said and Cloaky gently pulled away from your hold and flew up the stairs.

He sat down next to you and conjured a glass of water and handed it in your hands while he opened the medication boxes and took out the pills and put in your hand.

"This is an anti-inflammatory, this one is an antibiotic and together they will cure the inflammation and relieve the tension."

You nodded, putting the two pills in your mouth and swallowing them with a sip of water. He couldn't help but smile at the fact that you didn't question him, just trusted him completely. He knew that a big part of that trust was because you loved him, but an important part was because you trusted him as a doctor and Stephen missed that. He missed being a doctor, having people's trust in that way and feeling good about being able to save a life or help someone in that way.

"This one is for the pain. It's a strong painkiller and should take effect within a few minutes. It will make you drowsy, though."

You took the pill and threw it in your mouth, swallowing it quickly while you poured the glass of water. Stephen smiled tenderly, taking the glass and placing it on the coffee table. Then he took a small bottle from the bag and opened it, showing you how to use it. "This one you spray twice in each nostril, and it will help decongest your nose and make you breathe better."

But instead of taking the bottle from his hand, you just got closer to him and put your head forward, waiting for him to apply the medicine to you. Stephen let out a small chuckle, feeling his chest get warm. You were so cute. Even in that situation that wasn't the least bit funny, you managed to be extremely adorable.

"There you go." He said, finishing the application of the medicine and putting them all back in the bag and placing the bag on the table. "Now come here." He asked, stretching out his arms so you could snuggle into his chest. “I think you need cuddles.”

He hugged you, gently resting his chin on the top of your head. "I'm sorry I wasn’t here for you, sweetheart. I hate these missions sometimes, especially when we can't communicate." He confessed. Deep down he was feeling extremely guilty about the situation, even though he knew it wasn't his fault. If he had been there, he would have diagnosed the problem sooner and spared you so much pain. After all, what was the point of dating a doctor if you couldn't count on him when you needed him most?

"You're here now. That's all that matters." You answered, lifting your head to look at him and it broke his heart to see your eyes red with tears like that. He cupped your cheek gently. "Can I kiss you? I heard that getting a kiss from me is the best medicine for sinusitis." He joked, managing to get a small smile from your lips.

 "Kiss me all you want then." You said with a tired smile and he giggled, kissing you softly on the lips and then giving small kisses on your cheeks, on the tip of your nose, finishing on your forehead.

You hummed softly. "I love you, Steph." You said, laying your head back on his chest.

"And I love you, sweetheart. More than you can imagine." He confessed and you hummed again, but remained silent and he respected your silence. He knew that the pain you were feeling wasn’t small. Sinus headaches could be extremely painful, and you had endured it for as long as you could without asking for help. He only wished you had gone to the hospital sooner. He hated seeing you in pain.

...

You didn't realize you had fallen asleep until you woke up to the sound of soft voices talking. Stephen hadn't moved a muscle apparently, possibly to avoid waking you up, but now he was talking to someone.

"I'm glad she's okay now. Give her my best wishes when she wakes up." You heard Wong's voice and kept your eyes closed. The excruciating pain had passed, but your head was still sore and there was still a slight throb above your eyebrows.

"Are you going back to Kamar Taj yet?" You heard Stephen ask.

"Yes. Lots to do as usual. I'll let you rest for the night, Stephen. We'll talk tomorrow morning. Send me an update on Y/n when she wakes up." And as soon as he finished speaking, you heard the squeak of the portal opening and closing and then silence followed only by the sporadic sound of cars passing by on the street.

When you finally opened your eyes, you were surprised to find the Sanctum plunged into darkness. A single lamp was on, emanating a dim light from the kitchen. You had no idea how many hours you had slept, but you were completely dizzy, probably due to the effect of the medicine. You yawned and rubbed your eyes slowly, noticing that the pain behind them had also diminished considerably. Stephen moved slowly and then stroked your hair.

"Are you awake, sweetheart?" His voice was hoarse and heavy with sleep, which made you wonder if he had fallen asleep too.

"What time is it?" You asked softly.

"Almost nine." He answered. "You've slept for almost ten hours."

You rubbed your eyes again and then looked at him in surprise. "You've been here this whole time?"

"I left you in Cloaky's care so I could shower and eat, but I basically spent the day on this couch. I ended up falling asleep too, which is a rarity. I woke up to Wong calling me and asking for a book."

You smiled to yourself. "I'm glad you got some rest too."

He hummed positively. "How are you feeling? Better, I hope."

You nodded, slowly lifting your head to look at him now that your eyes had adjusted to the darkness.

"My head is sore, hurts a little, but the excruciating pain is gone."

Stephen smiled, cupping your cheek and stroking it slowly with his thumb. "That's great. But I'm afraid you'll need to take another painkiller now to give the anti-inflammatory time to kick in before the pain starts to come back." He explained.

"But if I take another one of those I'll sleep for another ten hours." You complained, to which he shook his head.

"I think a Tylenol will do for now. I'll get it for you." He said, threatening to get up, but you held him in place and cupped his face.

"Stay. Just a minute more."

He smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, sweetie, I'll be back in a moment."

You let him go reluctantly, but took the opportunity to sit up. Your body was limp and you felt like you were slightly drunk, so you avoided getting up. Suddenly you saw your bag on the coffee table and remembered that you hadn't even texted your boss, but before you could think to do so, Stephen was back answering the question you hadn't even voiced.

"I called the office and told them you were sick. You're staying home tomorrow too, by the way. Doctor's orders."

You nodded, watching him approach. He was wearing gray pajama pants and a white t-shirt. His hair, always impeccable, was messy and a few strands fell over his forehead. He looked handsome as always, but you couldn't help but notice a nasty cut on his cheek that you hadn't noticed before.

"You're hurt." You said as he sat down next to you, handing you a Tylenol pill and picking up the empty glass on the table and handing it to you. With a simple gesture of his hand, the glass filled with water.

"It's nothing. Drink it."

You obeyed, and the whole time he looked at you with tenderness in his eyes, but the crease between his eyebrows was still there.

"I'm fine, Stephen. Really."

He nodded, taking the glass from your hand and placing it back on the table.

"Seeing you in pain was a horrible experience, Y/n. It made me think that I would never forgive myself if something happened to you, and I'm not just talking about illnesses. The work I do, the things I deal with are extremely evil. It makes me think about the risk you run by living with me."

You smiled, trying to ignore what he was saying, but deep down you knew he was right. Living in the Sanctum with the Master of the Mystic Arts was a risk, but one you were willing to take because you loved him. "Let's not think about that." You simply said. "I'm fine and you came back from your mission safe and sound. That's all that matters."

He nodded, taking your hand in his and promptly changed the subject. "You need to eat something before taking the next dose of medication."

"Pizza." You asked immediately, which made him giggle.

"I was thinking about a salad..."

"I thought I was going to die today from a brain tumor. Fuck the salad, I want pepperoni pizza with lots of cheese and chocolate ice cream for dessert."

Stephen smiled broadly, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "Whatever you say. I'll order and while we wait, I'll help you take a shower. What do you think?"

You nodded. "I don't think I can stand up on my own to do it anyway. Whatever you gave me made me totally dizzy."

"I told you it was strong, didn't I? But the important thing is that it took the pain away."

You nodded. "Thanks for taking care of me, Steph."

"That's what you do when you love someone, isn't it? You've taken care of me so many times, sweetheart. I lost count of how many times you patched me up after I came back from a mission. That’s what people who love each other do."

You smiled "I really do love you."

...

Stephen had never seen you eat pizza so eagerly and then devour two bowls of ice cream. It was cute. Even your childish palate was something he found adorable about you. He ate four slices of pizza himself and found himself having seconds of dessert, which he rarely did. After a day like the one you had, he was sure you both deserved the comfort of the food.

Finally, you got ready for bed and ended up in bed with the lamp on, giving the room a low, comfortable light.

"How are you feeling now?" He asked to confirm, but it was clear from the look in your eyes that the medication was taking effect.

"Better. I barely feel any pain, but my head is still sore."

He caressed your face, watching you settle into the pillows next to him. "It's normal after such intense pain. You'll be better tomorrow."

You smiled, biting your lower lip and making that little face you always did when you wanted something, but you didn't say anything, you just brought your hand to his hair, tangling your fingers in it and scratching gently. Stephen closed his eyes, indulging in the touch and only then noticing how tired he was. The mission had been energetic, it had been a really hard few days that had taken a lot out of him physically and although he had managed to sleep for an hour or two, he could feel the exhaustion taking over him.

"Hm, it feels so good." He found himself confessing as he melted into your touch. "I missed you, sweetheart. Every day all I could think about was that I wanted to go home." He opened his eyes to see you smiling sweetly at him and slowly you snuggled closer to him as he automatically reached out to hold you impossibly close.

You cupped his cheek and pulled him to your lips, kissing him slowly, but with a growing desire. "I missed you too. I had plans for when you got back. I wanted to surprise you with a special dinner, but it wasn't possible." You said and he smiled reassuringly.

"Well, even though the day wasn't the most pleasant, it's safe to say we had a special dinner tonight. The pizza was very good." He said smirking.

"But there was something else I wanted to give you when you got back." You said, hooking your leg around his hip teasingly and Stephen soon understood what you were up to, but even though he wanted it as much as you did, he was forced to reason.

"Unfortunately, it's not a good idea, sweetheart, even though I really want it."

You frowned, clearly annoyed. "Why not? After the day I've had, don't I deserve a little affection?"

Stephen nodded with a smile. Of course you did. You deserved everything you wanted and he believed he deserved it too after the mission he had just returned from, but it wasn't always possible to get what you deserved. "Trust me, you do, but I don't want to risk making your headache worse."

You stared at him, not understanding what one thing had to do with the other, and he chuckled, trying to explain in a way that made sense.

"Remember what we talked about the tension in your facial muscles making your head hurt?"

You nodded.

"When we make love and you have a good time, which is always, I hope, the pleasure makes you tense the muscles of your entire body, even those on your face and especially during orgasm, which could lead to an orgasmic headache."

You rolled your lips, trying not to laugh. "Did you just make that up?"

Stephen let out a soft laugh. "Of course not. I'm serious. It's a real problem that you don’t have, but given the sinusitis, orgasm could be a trigger for a worsening of your condition."

You buried your face in his neck, laughing softly, and the sound was very welcome after he had seen you crying in pain earlier. "Believe me, I would never make that up, especially since I'm climbing the walls after so many days without sex."

"It hasn't been that many days." You contradicted him. "But I believe you, as stupid as it may seem. I just hate this fucking sinus thing even more now." You groaned.

"Your treatment will last five days, but after that we will have plenty of time to make up for it, trust me."

You sighed, lifting your head to look at him. "You'll have to make it up to me tonight with lots of kisses."

Stephen smiled. "As many as you want, sweetheart." He said, pulling you back to his lips.

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

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[sculien]

please help me save my dogs life.

my dog is suffering right now and i need to get him to the vet asap. his head has started wobbling, he has no balance and his eyes are...messed up. (he's also having a hard time opening his eyes) i know for a fact he has a severe flea allergy, and the house i'm staying at right now had no fleas until the neighbors moved in and we now have a literal infestation. (you can't walk thru this house or outside without having at least 10 fat fleas trying to body slam you) he was on meds for his allergies and was doing fine, but then i became homeless and was moving around too much to be able to work and keep him on it. so i'm pretty sure his immune system is overloaded with allergy attacks.

so i'm looking to raise at least $400, to cover the tests the vet would need to do + his medication. (the medication he absolutely needs is literally $100)

i'm also aware with him being 10 years old, the damage could be done and i might have to get him put down, which is about $200+ for his size.

i've attached a picture of him below under a read more with more info bc he looks a little scary and i don't wanna upset or freak anyone out.

i'm not doing a gofundme or anything similar bc i've heard horror stories of people not getting their money, and this is quite literally a life or death situation and with him being my soul dog, i can't take any chances.

any amount helps us out right now, and if you can't donate, please, please reblog. 💞 please feel free to send me a message if you have any questions about anything!

p.ypal: @/airikah v.nmo: itserij c.shapp: $itserij *my real name and online name are the same, just spelled differently. airi/eri and airikah/erica are all me!

he's had a similar issue with his eyes like this before bc i didn't know he was allergic to fish, and i gave him salmon flavored food and the vet gave me some stuff and he was okay. (i literally had to pry open his eyes for this picture, he's having a hard time opening them)

he also has ptsd (yes, for real) about getting his nails cut so he will NOT let me touch them and i cant risk him hurting himself trying to get away from me right now (or biting me), and its $33 to get it done at his vet and they absolutely need to be cut asap bc i'm also sure thats throwing off his balance.

like i said before the flea stuff i have isnt strong enough to help him, so he's losing more hair and scratching himself bloody even tho i'm giving him a bath every other day. (he also has a skin condition that makes this all 100x more painful for him - the meds that he needs help with that skin condition as well. it also clears his chronic ear infections which is another reason i think he's wobblily and off balance)

[omega-e123]

Hey! Welcome in.

Keep good vibes around here, yeah? If the content isn't your cup of tea, kindly walk towards the exit, please. There are other pockets of space that will be to your liking! Venturing further, you may come across NSFW.

If you are a minor, please do not interact with my NSFW or be inappropriate.

Feel free to talk to me in my inbox! Whether it be sending in headcanons, gushing about Shadow, or or even saying “hello”, I'm all ears. ⁂ Do note I'm not one to take "requests". (they will most likely be deleted) ⁂ Answered ask tags: #➺ inbox , #➺ anon , #➺ [user] , ➺ inbox imagines (Imagines from you guys!)

Unrelated posts tag: #• the void speaks

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ───

✧.* Reader is usually written as a Mobian in mind, but can be read as human. Gender neutral.

✨: New 🐾: Explicitly Mobian

Masterlist:

Updated: 1/16/2025

𓆩⟡𓆪 Fics

✦ ... And He Chaos Controlled Away Not the best way to reveal your affection. A Week Before || The Incident || Conclusion

✦ Just One More Craving a proper kiss from him

✦ Joyride How is he picking you up for your date?

✦ Hesitation !! NSFW !! Suggestive. You've never gone past kissing, why? Suggestive

✦ Kabedon Exactly as stated. He pins you.

✦ Head Over Heals CW: Blood Mention You injure yourself trying on air shoes.

✦ In a Rut !! NSFW !! Smut. Being part hedgehog has its.. complications. Annual complications. Odd Behavior || Restraint || Indulgence || Adoration

✦ Aftercare When it becomes to much, “Chaos” is the safe word

✦ Comforting You had a rough day and he has the remedy to make it better

✦ Medicine Cabinet Shadow has his own little pharmacy at home

✦ Aboard the Ark You got sick and Shadow decides to bring you up to his previous home.

✦ One Too Many CW: Alcohol, Drunk You partied a little too hard and now it's time to go home.

✦ The Shadow Bakery 🐾 Sometimes the basic instincts of a cat can't be beat.

✦ Trouble ✨ Face the consequences of your actions

✦ Unwombing Day ✨Despite Shadow's best efforts, nothing has gone right. Luckily you have a few things in mind

𓆩⟡𓆪 Headcanons

✫ Physical Contact

✫ Jealousy

✫ Royal Forbidden Love Lancelot!Shadow

✫ When You’re Sick

✫ The Winter Season

✫ Vampire!Shadow w/ @aelondrias

✫ Allergies

✫ Chronic headaches

✫ Trypanophobia (Fear of Needles)

✫ Shark Week

✫ Nightmare

✫ Birth Control During Rut !! NSFW !! Suggestive

✫ Perfect Present For You

✫ Misc. Anon

✫ Identification Tag ✨

✫ Post-it Notes ✨

✫ The Inhibitor Rings Stay On !! NSFW !! Suggestive ✨

𓆩⟡𓆪 Minis

𓇻 Play Wresting

𓇻 Protecting you

𓇻 Chew Toy

𓇻 Softness of Your Hands

𓇻 His Tail

𓇻 First Time Affection

𓇻 Losing you

𓇻 Blood Transfusion

𓇻 The Ultimate…

𓇻 From behind !! NSFW !! Smut 🐾

𓇻 Grinding !! NSFW !! Smut

𓇻 Anxiety Attack

𓇻 Blood test

𓇻 Love Sick

𓇻 Grooming his Chest 🐾

𓇻 Worm ✨

𓆩⟡𓆪 Misc.

⋆ Who is Shadow? Mini personality analysis ig

⋆ Scenario Submission Black Doom / Mephiles threatening Shadow they'll hurt you by @aelondrias

⋆ Reincarnation (Not ship) What if Shadow found Maria again?

[crazyoffher]

TAKE YOUR PICK.

wednesday addams x fem!vampire!reader

summary: a werewolf attack leaves you in need of aid, though you find yourself aided in more than just your wounds.

warnings: smut (18+) — slight oral (r receiving), fingering, strap-on referred to as “cock” at one point, slight face-slapping, teasing, dirty talk, virgin!r, withheld orgasm. -> mentions of blood, wounds, werewolf attack, medical equipment, mentions of kidnapping, scarring, and dom!w + sub!r.

word amount: 6900+

a/n: yes you read that right, 6900+ words. i guess i beat you, didn’t i, my ⭐️ anon 😉.

“Our successor greets us with torture by this grouping.” Her words were dull, and as you turned to face her, you were met with her eyes boring into yours. You cocked your head to the side, easily bypassing a tree that would’ve hit anyone else. Your instincts were stressed by your venture into the woods with the murderous woman you labeled your enemy accompanying you.

Your skin itched. Badly. Though you would rather burn in the flames she created than take action for relief, you never dared to let the shorter girl win at her former pleas to have her partner switch, labeling it as having to not deal with your pollen allergy, but everyone knew of your rivalry.

It was no secret after all. You couldn’t count the number of times she tried to assist in your early death, ranging from simple pop-up attacks that your raging instincts guided you with to kidnapping you into the Nightshades library and torturing you—or more so, trying her best to—while reading latin incantations from a book that still scarred your mind to this day.

“You don’t have to tell me.” With your head shifted into it’s former state, staring straight ahead, you expected Wednesday to mirror your action. She hadn’t.

Your eyes darted all around the forest, searching for insects, animals, humans, or anything of the above that would pose a potential life-threat. Unlike Wednesday, you allowed yourself to feel fear because you actually cared for your life.  

You and Wednesday were similar, which was the root of your rivalry. She eyed you as a copycat, but you had always been who you were since the day you were born, and nobody could ever change you. You thrived in academics and sports, taking part in three education-related after school clubs as well as fencing, track, and a modernized human sport known as “soccer” to Americans during the summer.

You easily got more praise for your contribution to the school’s image, while Wednesday held the slimy silver medal praising her for being in second place, and her mind raged at the remembrance of it every time. She wanted to be number one above all else, but she could never bypass you. Hell, you even bypassed Bianca Barclay, forming a small rivalry with her when you first arrived at the academy.

“Would you like me to send you a photographed Polaroid of myself with my signature on it, or shall you continue to stare at me and soon trip over a rock?” Wednesday’s eyes furrowed at the end of the sentence, unable to hold back a yelp when she inevitably did fall over a grounded rock and faceplant on the floor.

You halted your movement, turning your head to the side to catch a glimpse of Wednesday rolling herself on her back, a hand over her knee from a wound forming due to her ignorant choice to wear shorts. “We have thirty minutes remaining to collect all we need for our botanical project. I’d suggest you get off the floor.” 

Before she could even comprehend what you said, she found herself looking up into your eyes as you towered over her. Once more, you cocked your head to the side, allowing a sly grin to form on your face at the sight of blood dousing her hand from the open wound. “And you tell me I’m the clumsy one?”

“You are.” She shot back immediately, her eyes narrowing at your facial expression of humor. You found humor in her; you always have. It was a key part of your romantic attraction to her, though that aspect had always been locked away as a secret, and your humor lied in her inability to keep up with you.

Whether Wednesday wanted to admit it or not, she had found her challenger. Someone who was undeniably better than her, someone who forced her to work harder to be the one at the top, though she knew secretly she’d always be trapped in second place.

You were better than her, and it annoyed her more than anything in the world. That’s why the discovery of her own attraction toward you scared her—the girl who dared not feel emotion. She blamed it on your well-behaved confidence and that stupid grin you flashed her from day to day. 

A grin she wanted to kiss off, she thought once, and she contemplated throwing herself off the balcony in her dorm room when she allowed that sentence to linger in her mind.

You laughed genuinely, your grin growing wider at the sight of Wednesday stumbling to get up, her face crinkling only so slightly at the pain that coursed through the entirety of her leg.

“You’re unfit.” A huff came from her, head flicking up to meet your gaze, eyes lingering on your standstill grin—your pink-lipped mouth—for a second deemed too long before she lunged forward and pushed you aside.

The force of her thrust caused you to stumble back and fall on a pile of leaves, blowing and coughing out a crisp leaf that found it’s home inside your mouth. At the force of her thrust toward you, Wednesday found herself collapsed once more on the floor, her body not correctly stabilized from her injury.

“So, not only are you clumsy, but you’re also an idiot.” You sat yourself upright, hands laid down on the floor behind your body to stabilize yourself, all the while watching the conflict in Wednesday’s eyes over whether she should shoot back or keep quiet.

She kept quiet, eliciting a small, almost unnoticeable groan that Wednesday herself didn’t catch at first. You heard it, though, your grin finding it’s way back onto your face as you practically jumped up, brushing yourself off with a flick of your wrists to your neutral- colored clothing.

You furrowed your eyebrows to see Wednesday still sprawled on the floor, expecting her to have risen up by now, even if a limp tagged along. “The big, challenging girl who fought off the reincarnation of Joseph Crackstone years ago can’t get up because of a wound on her knee.”

You spoke in disbelief, and Wednesday turned her head over to you with might. “Don’t you ever mock my accomplishments.”

“Well, we can’t even accomplish the task of finishing our botanical sciences project if you don’t take your small ass up and off the floor.” You bit back.

Fumed with rage and annoyance due to her growing short temper, Wednesday lunged up at you with all the strength she had in her body. The next second, you found your hands wrapped around her waist as you held her upright from falling again, the girl collapsing into your embrace with a snake-like hiss emitting from her.

Another groan came from her, not even bothering to hide it this time, too preoccupied with the futile stinging of her wound and the warming position she found herself in with you. “Alright, back on the floor.”

Her back met the homing place that was the floor once more, shooting daggers at your inexistent attempt to lay her down carefully, seeing as you dropped her onto the floor without care. Her hand found it’s way back to her knee, coating the skin in blood once more, and you sighed. “Move your hand.”

“No.”

“Since when did you become so stubborn?” She raised her eyebrows at you. “Actually, that’s a dumb question, but I’m not going to ask you again. Addams,” your tone became firm, seriousness rising up amidst your former face of humor, “move your hand.”

Her teeth clenched, jawline protruding out, and her eyes were in their usual wide state, as if she were thinking, but her mind was blank. You found impatience creeping up on you, not daring to alert your eyes to her dark red, bloodied hand from her gushing wound.

With a twitch of your eye, your hand shot forward and clamped on Wednesday’s wrist, pulling it away from her wound with force, and she let out a small whimper that she immediately tried to cover with a cough. Your eyes darted up at her for only a second, having heard it, before looking back down at her wound, which was open and wide.

“I will take you to the Infirmary, and then come back and collect all we need for our project.” You said your plan out loud, your eyes darting back and forth between Wednesday’s open wound and the pathway from which you and the girl had just come. “I am fine. Besides, you would only get all the wrong things we need, seeing as how foolish you are.”

“Foolish is what you claim me to be, yet you’re the one consistently in second place.” Without warning, you sank an arm under her bent knees and another under her back, picking her up in bridal style, to which her eyes drastically widened. You felt her tense under you, muscles contracting, and you groaned. 

“Oh, relax. Being tense will only cause your wound to bleed more, and before I know it, I’ll be carrying your dead weight.”

“Put me down this instant.” Wednesday fought, trying to wiggle herself out of your grasp as you started to walk back to the school grounds, leaving your grip on her to tighten. “No. And don’t presume that I care about your wellbeing either, because I don’t.”

She huffed, her leg jerking up when a low branch made contact with her wound. “Then why not allow me to continue with you?”

“If you haven’t noticed, we’re past the forest barriers that Nevermore set.” When she turned her head in response to your signal to the right, she noticed the wooden line fences that were more intended to serve as a signal for students to turn around than as a means of keeping them out.

“Throats get slit in this neck of the woods,” you continued, mindlessly drifting your eyes all over the forest in caution of any inhumane species. “I’d rather not have a Jason Voorhees copycat lunatic trying to slaughter us, and I can’t go far because you’re disabled.”

“It’d be your own death’s fault for trying to save me.” Her deadpanning words made you want to drop her and let her find her own way back to the academy, but you just let out an annoyed breath while gripping onto her thighs tighter. “Forgive me for actually having a beating heart, Addams.”

“You’re not forgiven, (Y/L/N).”

Soon enough, you found yourself back in the forest, with Wednesday’s presence long gone. You were kneeling down, collecting dirt into a small jar that you had sprayed with pesticides to clear it of any lingering bugs. You hadn’t noticed how the time flew past, the sun fading into the moon, and you took a moment to enjoy the stars, hands settled on your dirt-covered knees.

A sound rang through the forested area, causing you to snap your head in the direction of the noise. It was muffled, but it sounded too closely like the howls of the werewolves you’ve grown to make friends with, and that was enough for you to shoot up instantly from your kneeling position. With a sharp breath, you looked up at the moon, now taking on the shape of a full moon, and you gagged in growing fear.

You’re fine, right? They get locked in the Lupen cages; there’s no way one of them could’ve escaped theirs. Your mind raced for explanations as you crouched down to pick up all that you'd collected, ranging from dirt to plants, before taking steady steps in the direction of the academy.

You took precautionary halts so as not to make major noise, cringing in fear at the sound of a leaf loudly crunching under your foot, and you could hear the howls once more, closer this time. 

You took another five steps before you could hear the thudding stomps of a figure inching closer to you with every second, and you thanked nothing else but your heightened senses as you dropped all of what you held and booked it. 

You dodged tree logs and branches left and right, hands fumbling with your satchel to tear it off your body to release the weight it was holding, and your body shook at the thudding sounds ringing in your ears, inching closer and closer-

Until you woke up, spread out on the floor, and your hands dug around the surface of the floor to help you realize that you were still in the woods. Your body still shook, this time more violently as you gasped in pain, stings shooting all over your body and causing your muscles to tighten.

“Fuck!” You groaned out, clenching your stomach where it hurt the most to feel a liquid coating your skin of the same texture that dripped your hands with Wednesday’s blood hours earlier. Your eyes drooped, sullenly coming to the firm realization that you were bleeding out with a liquid you could not even view properly, the night still too dark.

You blamed it all on a werewolf not properly being contained, but if that was the case, why didn’t they kill you instead of merely injuring you? The thought of the beast not being a werewolf flooded out of your mind quicker than it came in. You could see the outline of large claw slits scarring the skin of your stomach, and you yelled out the most mind-scarring shriek as you forced yourself up.

You moaned out, “Oh,” in pain as you sat yourself on a log, scanning the dark forest for any signs of life, human or not, to which there were none, and you sighed in relief. You took off your jacket first before peeling the shredded, blood-stained white shirt off your body, leaving you with just your bra and an exposed, large wound.

Your eyes closed in despair, feeling the pain dull ever so slightly in your relaxing state. You bent over, to your body’s anguish, to grab your bag with a small first aid kit tucked into it. All the items within the mini-kit were dunked out on the log space beside you, and you hurriedly grabbed multiple anti-septic wipes and shredded open the packaging before pressing them onto your skin.

Fangs bared, eyes darkening at the severe pain, you dug them into your bottom lip and swished the wipes over your wounds before letting out a loud yell of agony. You threw the wipes to the floor when they were all left coated with a dark red, grabbing the bandage roll, and with all of your muscles tightening at the pressure, wrapping your stomach with the bandage that immediately turned red before sealing it with tape.

The aftermath was almost pleasurable; the pain was still there but lessened due to the lack of blood flowing out of you. Managing to stumble up, you discarded your bag on the floor before taking a step forward, your body hunching over immediately from the inability to stand upright, and you carried on in the form of a hunchback.

What Wednesday least expected on an early Saturday morning, 3:30 a.m. to be exact, was the sound of her doorknob snapping off from the door itself. Her eyes perked up, sensing danger, and she immediately dug under her pillow to grab the knife she stored there, pointing it forward with the sharp tip ready to plunge itself into whoever dared to intrude into her and Enid’s dorm.

She had only been released from the hospital a few hours prior, so it seemed as though her knee pain had subsided, but when she put her foot on the ground, it suddenly returned. She ignored the discomfort and advanced toward the opening door, ready to strike.

“Wed-” You threw the door open, stopping immediately when the tip of her knife bore into your throat, one step away from slicing into your carotid artery. Even in the harsh darkness, Wednesday could see the fear and agony in your eyes, the way you were breathing heavily and clutching your stomach, and the skin that your bloodied jacket had now covered.

In the dim light of her bedside lamp, she could see your black jacket with a huge damp spot covering it, clamped over by bloodied hands. Her eyes met yours, and you gulped. “I didn’t know who else to come to.”

Wordlessly, she stepped to the side, inviting you in, which you limped into, and she closed the door. Her hand met your shoulder, an odd warmth coating your body despite her cold figure, and she aided you to the bathroom, choosing to disregard the blood trail you were leaving behind.

A sigh left your mouth as you collapsed on the closed-lidded toilet, leaning all your weight on the material. Wednesday pulled out a medical kit from under the sink, one much bigger than the one you had previously used, and slammed it on the countertop. “So much for not trying to wake up Enid.”

“Do you want me to help you or not? Beside, if you even took a second glance around the room, you’d notice Enid is not here, but in a Lupen cage in form.” She spoke in hushed whispers, and you shut up immediately, shrinking under her gaze. You were better than her, yes, but that didn’t mean you didn’t get scared of her from time to time.

“Take off your jacket.” She said simply, still prepping rounds of wipes with anti-septic liquids on them for your bloodied wound, as the wipes you used earlier did not have much of an effect considering the size of them. Wearily, you zipped down your jacket, peeling it off of you with a grunt or two before throwing it away at the base of the bathtub. You laid yourself back, eyes burning into the side of Wednesday’s face, anticipating her moves.

After she had finished prepping the wipes, she grabbed a sewing kit from under the counter, and you gulped at the largely-sized needles that she pulled out along with them. “All I really needed was for you to clean it, Addams. I’m a vampire; I can self-heal.”

“This is merely a precautionary measure to not leave putrid-looking scars.” She placed the items needed beside you, removing her own jacket, and you noticed how she was still in what she considered “casualwear”, seemingly not changing out of her clothes before drifting off to sleep. “Odd coming from the person who has left me with multiple scars, and why didn’t you change?”

“What?”

Wednesday turned, giving you a full visual of her in a button-up shirt and vest, black slacks tucked in and still belted; sleeping couldn’t have been comfortable for her with a belt digging into her hip. “You’re still in your clothes.” You pointed it out, and she looked down at her choice of fashion before letting out a small huff and advancing toward you, taking up position to the right of you.

“I awaited your presence. I told you before that I wanted to get a start on the project so I would not have to do much with class dealing with you and your miserable antics of getting items confused. Not only do you show up empty-handed in the dead of night, but you are also scarred through your inability to defend yourself.”

She badmouthed you, all the while untangling her sewing needles with harsh movements, but you only focused on one aspect of her words. “You fell asleep waiting for me?”

At once, Wednesday halted her movements, giving you a dead look before turning around and grabbing the large anti-septic wipes, swiftly pushing them into your wounded stomach. You let out a long, loud gasp, groaning at the pain and taking hold of Wednesday’s wrist, trying to push her arm back but to no avail. “Don’t get cocky.”

Your head flew back in agony, your hand still clasped around her wrist with a bruising grip. “I wasn’t! I was asking!”

Wednesday glided the wipes along your scars, to your dismay, until there were little to no signs of blood yet, all the while mindlessly running her eyes over the scars on your body that she created.

It was the only way she could get her mind off your exposed torso and how your muscles gallantly flexed from the pain, unwillingly showing themselves off to her.

Your eyes were squinting, still a bit sore from the antiseptics, but when you noticed that Wednesday had not made any other moves, you let them go from your iron grip. Your gaze landed on her stance, lost in thought. “What?”

"I'm in the process of comprehending an attempt to stitch you together while you remain seated, while I, on the other hand, am standing." Her eyes glanced all around the bathroom, sighing contently as she tried to determine a possible way to play surgeon in a comfortable manner.

“Well, I’m not lying on the floor. Your bed?” You inquired, and Wednesday shook her head, her mind discarded by that thought. “I would like to go to sleep tonight in a bloodless bed.”

“Um,” you gulped. The first real situation droning through your head was one anybody wouldn’t dare share with Wednesday. It's a good thing you weren’t like anybody else. “Sit on me.”

Her head snapped to meet your eyes, yours innocently boring into hers, and she squinted. “What?”

“Sit on my lap. When I lean back, you’ll be able to stitch me up or... whatever it is that you plan on doing without breaking your spine.”

You could see the conflict in her eyes, and she took it into consideration, to your surprise. With a pinch to the bridge of her nose and a long, elated sigh, as a means of balance, she placed her hands on each of your shoulders before swinging her left leg over your body and sitting down on your firmly closed legs. 

“Tell nobody about this, or more of these scars,” she said, pinching down on a drawn out scar that sat just right under your bra, “will litter your skin.” You gave her a hasty nod, eager to put your mind elsewhere while your sworn enemy found a seat on your lap.

Without a word of warning, she dug the needle into your skin, causing you to let out an embarrassingly loud yelp of pain. Your hands flew to her shoulders as a matter of instinct, and you half-expected her to shrug them off, but she prioritized her sewing techniques instead.

The further she got into sewing the deep claw marks, the tighter your hands gripped her shoulders. You’d be surprised if Wednesday woke up bruise-free, as you could almost feel your knuckles turning white.

Wednesday found... amusement? The way your eyes closed at her stinging touch, the way your hands buried themselves into her shoulders, and how your thigh muscles tightened under her ass with every swift movement. She loved seeing you defenseless and submissive to her more than anything, finding profit in the means of mocking you later on if you tried to boast about your betterness.

When she had finally finished her stitching, she found herself still lingering on your lap, her movements awfully slow, even for her, to grab a couple large medical bandages and place them over her work. 

“Stay here.” Her voice was low while she slid off your lap, turning to leave the bathroom before returning a minute later with a baggy jacket in her hands. Your eyebrows furrowed as she laid the fabric on your lap, turning to wash her hands of any remaining blood.

You had a little trouble donning the jacket, which was made of Wednesday's fashion choice's baggy material but looked a little more fitted on you because of your lean frame. Your wounds, formerly the only thing clouding your mind, were long gone. You focused on the seriousness of your enemy’s actions, and the oddly warm jacket filled with her natural scent that was now clinging to your body.

“Why?”

“What?”

“When I came here, I fully expected you to push me away.” You leaned your body up on the toilet, hands running through your disheveled hair, and Wednesday directed her attention toward you. “But you didn’t, for some odd reason, and actually helped me—hell, you even sat on me—when you’ve been nothing but the cause of my terror ever since I’ve arrived at this academy.”

It was all nothing but the truth. Two years have passed since you made your flaunting arrival at Nevermore, head held high with nothing else on your mind other than the determination to be the best student the academy had ever seen, and so you accomplished it. Two years had passed since you crossed paths with the deadly Wednesday Addams, her mind still fresh from her praiseful battle with the former overtaker of Jericho.

Two years passed since you beat Wednesday’s boat in the Poe Cup; the Black Cats determined to win their second trophy in a row, and she swore you as her enemy that day when her eyes laid upon your smirking frame with the golden cup in your hand, sending her a wink of confidence that she mentally fumed at.

Two years had passed since Wednesday Addams made the dreadful discovery that, after all, her black, unbeating heart could feel love but that her taste was awful if she found herself attracted to her enemy. Now she found herself in the middle of her last year at Nevermore, freshly 19, and still rummaging in a cat-dog chase game with you.

Two years had passed since she found herself focused on nothing but her enemy, who was in front of her now, sitting on the toilet seat in her bathroom, all patched up, and looking at her with curiosity. “Are you going to continue to stare at me or answer my question?”

“I’m not required to reply to any of your inquiries.” Swiftly, she made her exit out of the bathroom, leaving you to stumble up on your feet and follow behind her like a lost pup. Your body felt awfully tired, though your mind was wide awake and racing with multiple thoughts at once, overloading and ready to explode any second.

“Add-”

“I’ve patched you up,” She moved to close the door to her closet, and in a rut of refusal to make eye contact with you, solemnly afraid that she’d instantly jump your bones- what? “So you may leave now.”

“I’m not leaving until you’ll answer my ‘inquiry’ on why you were nice, at least in my books, to me. You’re avoiding the question.”

You could see the clench in Wednesday’s jaw as she made her way over to her desk, tidying up the workplace in an attempt to distract herself from the conversation that lingered. “I’m unsure as to what you’re saying.”

“Addams-”

“Leave before I do something I’ll regret, (Y/L/N).” She snapped, finally meeting your gaze with wide eyes, and you furrowed your eyebrows. “Since when have you ever regretted something that included me? Did you not tie me to a tree on a full moon and bait me to the werewolves last year?”

Her eyes closed in annoyance. “That’s not what I mean.” And as she rubbed her face, you could almost feel the mixture of stress and uncertainty in her stance, almost as if she were holding back from something.

“Then what do you mean? I’ve known you for two years, and you’ve never failed to reply to me with a full sentence, whether it’s answering my question or barking out a snarky remark. Tell me what’s changed in tha-”

Your eyes were opening and closing rapidly in stress, causing you to not register Wednesday’s frame hurriedly marking toward you until you felt a body collapse into you and a smooth substance on your lips.

Huh?!

Your eyes shot open and wide. To confirm your suspicions, Wednesday’s arms were thrown over your shoulder while her body leaned into yours, and her lips smashed against yours almost desperately.

That’s what she presumed to regret. 

But it was something you longed for, unbeknownst to her, and you made it known when your hands found their way to her cheeks, pulling her in deeper. You could feel her lips tremble slightly in shock, unprepared for you to be pulling her closer instead of pushing her away.

Wednesday’s legs grew a mind of their own, taking steps forward and causing you to step back until the backs of your knees met her bed, and she tore her lips away from you for a breather. You took the separation as an opportunity to sit yourself down on her bed, all while your eyes never left hers in the process, and the smaller girl hurriedly found her former position on your lap.

“The moon is fading. Enid could come back any minute now.” You spoke between kisses, shivering at Wednesday’s cold touch on your warm skin, her hands slithering underneath the jacket you wore to rub up and down your back. “Then she’ll leave again, because she’s not going to enjoy what she’ll see.”

Your body visibly shivered at her words, or maybe it was just her fingers dancing along your spine, but either way, you found yourself completely engulfed in her and just her. The claw marks, the time, the physical confession—all of it was gone from your mind as Wednesday mindlessly pushed herself even farther into you.

She took a push too close, her body pressing up against your wound, causing you to groan and bite down on her bottom lip, fangs bared from the pain. Your lips never separated, instead pushing farther into them at the feeling and taste of Wednesday’s blood filling your mouths from her punctures, only spurring the two of you further.

“Lay down.” You obeyed immediately, finding nothing more hot in the moment than the husk in the smaller girl's voice, and manuevered from under her plushy thighs on top of you to lay comfortably on her bed. You were engulfed in her natural scent once more—the same scent you had grown accustomed to for over two years now, the scent that followed you everywhere you went.

You adored it, just as you adored her behind your hardening gaze most days.

Her eyes were narrowed, and you would have thought she was tired any other day, but you knew her look was one of need and want. Lust, to put it short, and you wanted nothing more than to fulfill her need, even if it meant submitting yourself to her in a situation you'd never thought you’d willingly put yourself in.

Just as she had earlier, she slid off your lap with a lingering touch on your hips. “Stay here.” 

And as quickly as she left, she returned, though this time with an item in her hand, and you knew exactly what it was. Your eyes widened, and your mouth drew open. Already?

“Yes, already.” Did you say that out loud? “You’d find me pathetic if you knew how long I have deferred using this. To use it on you.” Her eyes were filled with a dark, unmanageable lust that swam through her veins, and you could only imagine the scenarios that swarmed through your head. This wasn’t the Wednesday you knew, but it was one you anticipated figuring out.

“But I can’t just use this on you immediately, no.” A smug grin came across her lips—a sight that you, or really anybody else, rarely ever saw, and it was one you wanted to see more of. “No, I have to prep you, don’t I?”

“Prep me?” You asked, genuine curiosity lacing your voice, and her grin grew wider. “I’ll show you.”

Wednesday positioned herself back on your lap, putting the erotic object on her nightstand, within reach for later use, before pulling you into another kiss. It was bruising, and the kiss was ten times more harsh than before, but you would never complain about her being pressed up against you.

While you found yourself entrapped in her lips, her hands slithered down your body and toward your pants, grabbing the buckle of your belt and undoing it at a steady pace. That’s when it dawned on you—she was going to prep you for an object that withheld some... girth.

Your muscles tensed at the thought, and more so at the feeling of Wednesday pulling down your black jeans with ease, discarding your shoes in the process of leaving your bottom half in just your underwear. “Wednesday…”

She was simple. “Relax.” 

On the down low, she knew that this was your first time engaging with somebody sexually, never failing to notice your soft rejections of the girls and guys that tried to woo you on and failed miserably. It was an aspect she enjoyed even more now, and she wanted nothing more than to rub in the faces of all you rejected that they couldn’t get you to agree to a date, but yet she had you writhing underneath her, moaning her name.

Your breathing grew heavier as the seconds went by, hitching when Wednesday moved your underwear to the side with a slow itch of her hands, and you wanted nothing more than to grab her by the head and bury her in your heat. The lack of restraint you were feeling was lethal and ultimately surprising for a girl who rarely ever even masturbated.

“Such a possessing view.” She murmured in a low tone, her eyes dancing all around your core, and your cheeks flushed at her staring. Her eyes locked with yours, her mind racing at the sight of your eyes narrowed and staring down at her with silent pleads, and those pleads she fulfilled when her tongue darted out to take a swipe at your folds.

You whimpered in a tone around an octave higher than your usual voice, and your eyes widened at the sound that unwillingly left your mouth. It seemed to spur Wednesday on, allowing her to dart her tongue out once more and flick it over your clit, the nub that she wanted nothing more than to swell up with her mouth.

You let out another whimper—louder and needier this time around. “And sensitive. I can put that to use.” She dove her head farther into your heat, her lips wrapping around your clit and taking a harsh suck at the nub. Your thighs shut around her head, eyes never leaving one another, while she feverishly sucked your clit, needing to hear more of the high-pitched whines that left your mouth.

She pulled away soon after, to your dismay that you showed through your pleading whines, to allow a bead of spit to drip out of her mouth and onto your entrance, before taking her finger and rubbing her spit around the area. Your hips instinctively bucked up at the sensation, feeling yourself clench around nothing, and it made Wednesday want to elicit a laugh.

“The way I’m touching you now is a major privilege alone.” Her finger sank into your entrance, and she bit down lightly at the plushness of your thighs when she felt your velvety walls tighten around her. “I adore watching you like this underneath me; you make me want to fuck you braindead.”

She sank her finger into you until her knuckle bared against your heat, curling the bony stature inside of you and eliciting a light moan out of you. You already found yourself on edge from her husky words alone, and the curl of her finger inside of you didn’t help you from almost cumming embarrassingly fast.

“Already close? What a shame; I wanted to have fun toying with you.” Her mouth against her core made you moan from the vibrations, hands flying to grip her head menacingly and push her farther into you, almost crying out for the whole hall to hear when she slipped a second finger into you.

Her fingers picked up pace, thrusting in and out of you with force while the squelching sounds of your slick covering your walls made Wednesday feel a pit of need start to boil in her stomach, one that she desired to fulfill.

The two-on-two action on your core made you clench impossibly tight on Wednesday’s fingers, the ravenhead finding difficulty in her repeated movements. “Want to cum, yeah?”

You nodded profusely, your face growing red from your need for release and the way she released her lips from your clit with a pop. A small grin formed on her face when she pulled out of you, relishing in your whines of despair.

Eyes closed, heavy breathing—you were too blissed out, despite not achieving an orgasm from her underlying teasing, to notice Wednesday sliding off you, strapping the former item in her hand to her core. Her eyes never left your face as she strapped the item on, feeling more than fired up to make you scratch down her back with pitiful whines leaving your mouth.

And so, that’s what she achieved, eyes closing from the burning pains of your nails digging deep into her shoulders down to the middle of her back. Her own mind felt foggy watching the way her silicone became drenched in your arousal, the strap pumping in and out of you with ease, and the way you moaned straight into her ear—god, she regretted never taking your submissive state for profit more early.

Your thighs clenched around her hips when she bottomed into you, settled on her knees, and bent over slightly to curl the strap inside of you, hitting an unfamiliar spongy spot that had you sinfully whining with a hand clenched on Wednesday’s head. “If the entirety of humanity could merely glimpse you in your current state, they would swiftly recognize your rare moment of submissiveness,” her lips dove down, meeting your ear, “all submissive just for me.”

Her movements grew hard, her hands gripping your skin with a bruising force while her hips drove into you with no relent, finding a need for her own release. The so-called “devil” found herself groaning heavy breaths into your ear, all the while slipping a soft moan or two in that she couldn’t hold. The feeling of you finally beneath her, pleading and scratching at her for release, felt ethereal; all of her senses were on cloud nine, and it ignited a burrowed-down spark.

One of Wednesday’s hands removed from your skin, leaving behind darkened marks that would worsen with time to connect with your cheek, the slap making you roll your eyes back at how dirty it felt. “No connected nerves, and I can still feel you pulsating on me; you’re driving me crazy with it.” 

Your moans were muffled at the feeling of the ravenhead’s fingers shoving deep into your mouth, bypassing your uvula, causing a gag to ensue. Your lips wrapped around the digits, absentmindedly biting on them when the pit in your stomach started to burn like wildfire, making you tighten around the raven’s strap and force her to slow her movements, though still managing a speedy pace. 

“Don’t cum.”

The words you wished never left her mouth made you whine around her fingers; your body was too sensitive from your lack of sexual activity and masturbation over the years, making it almost impossible to fight your orgasm off. Her fingers briefly exited your mouth, only to slap your cheek once more before returning to their original location. “Just for a bit.”

The hold-off was tortuous; the muscles in your body tightened incredulously while your mouth pathetically sucked on Wednesday’s fingers in a pathetic attempt to tear your mind away from your orgasm. It didn’t work. 

The overloading, burning sensation in your stomach was almost uncomfortable; the fire burned longer than it intended to while you made putrid eye contact with the roof, Wednesday’s head snug to the side of yours while she drew herself closer to her own orgasm. The words that made  you sigh in relief, your body shaking after seconds of torture, finally came past the girl’s lips, and you adored them.

“Cum for me, la mia dolce metà.”

You obeyed immediately, allowing your muscles to untighten, and Wednesday’s fingers left your mouth, allowing you to spew out a large moan that, without a doubt, woke the entire hall up. Your hands dug into her shoulders, feeling her shudder over you from her own orgasm, though the only thing that left her mouth was heavy pants.

Alas, she pulled out of you after seconds of relishing in one another’s embrace, making you feel empty compared to just minutes ago. The tip of Wednesday’s cock directed to your swollen clit from her previous oral actions, pushing down with enough pressure to make your toes curl and a breathy sigh leave your mouth.

Wednesday had pulled herself up by now, and it was only then that you noticed the girl taking a mental screenshot of your body, more specifically your core and the way your cum leaked out of you at a snail's pace. She licked her lips at the sight, her eyes flickering up to meet yours, and you gulped.

“La mia dolce metà,” she whispered, hands running down your body and to your hips, “I’m not done with you just yet.” The edges of her lips tugged ever so slightly when she dipped her head down to meet your core, leaving you to moan with delight as your hand found it’s way back to her hair.

[save-mohamed-family]

Thank you for documenting my campaign from the following accounts:

@ibtisams @soon-palestine @sar-soor @90-ghost @fairuzfan @ibtisams @fallahifag @northgazaupdates

I am Mohammed Almanasra, 32 years old, married, and a father of three children: Abdulrahman, 6 years old, Sarah, 4 years old, and Lina, 3 years old.

My story began with the loss of my parents and four of my sisters who were bombed and lost their lives along with their children after the events of October 7 and the severe war on Gaza. Now, my wife, children, and I are displaced, without parents or siblings, living with our little cat that we embrace among us.

Recently, I moved to the south of the Gaza Strip, fearing for the lives of my children. We left behind our memories and our new home, for which we had not finished paying the installments, in addition to losing my job. Currently, I live in a tent that does not protect me from the heat of summer or the cold of winter, and without the minimum necessary livinng basics including water, food medical care, clothe and even bedding .

I suffer from a chronic asthma and severe attacks from tightness and an extreme allergy in the ear and I need medicine that are not available, or very expensive .

Under these difficult circumstances, after five attempts at displacement and narrowly escaping death from the bombing, I am trying with all my might to protect my family, the most precious thing I have.

My dreams were shattered, and my house was destroyed, and I found myself living in a tent no larger than 4 square metres. My work turned from a tailor to a street vendor in order to barely buy a few crumbs of bread to feed my children.

My main goal with this donation is to protect my children, my wife, and our scaredy cat and evacuate them to a safe place away from the ongoing wars. The funds will be used to cross the Egyptian border and bring basic needs and treatments to create a more stable conditions for my family. Approximately $18,000 will be allocated for travel expenses, and around $6,000 for securing suitable housing for a couple of months.

As for the medical treatment costs, the exact figure will be determined after undergoing examinations in hospitals in the Arab Republic of Egypt & it gonna be in average $8,000. The remaining amount ($8,000) will be used to establish a small project to sustain our daily living, enabling me to provide for my children and wife.

Look at what happened to my children because of the intense heat and the insects that thrive in the summer season. Every day, I take them to the hospital to treat them due to poisonous insect bites. I implore every kind-hearted soul to help me protect my children.

My son, Abdul Rahman, has a deep passion for playing football and is a devoted fan of Real Madrid. He always dreamed of playing football at his school, but the war prevented this dream from coming true.

Where are you, Real Madrid fans ?

Help Abdul Rahman achieve his dream.

I feel very sad and embarrassed to ask for help, but I have no other options left. I know that this request is difficult, but I also know that there is still humanity and living consciences and I believe in miracles.

If you have any inquiries or questions, feel free to ask me, please!

"I urgently appeal to you for moral and financial assistance to cover the necessary costs to escape to a safe environment, where we can build a secure future for our children and ensure the safety of our family. We thank you for your concern and support, and we hope that you can help us in these difficult circumstances."

Sincere greetings & thanks

Mohammed & the family

[liyaauhr]

SBG RANDOM HEADCANONS 🎀🔥

— When Tyler first saw Ashlyn’s hair he had a mini HEART ATTACK and not because the girl had the audacity to just blindly used a KNIFE to cut all her hair off without even thinking but also because of how fugly and uneven it turned out to be. The following day he brought a pair of cutting sheers to the bus and fixed her hair up while scolding and rambling on at her like a pissed off mother in Spanish. Ashlyn was just confused because her Spanish weren’t sufficient to keep up with Tyler’s speed but she was smart enough to know everything Tyler was saying was probably to be repeated to Lily…but he also made a point of smacking her hand away every Ashlyn got impatient and tried doing it herself.

(She started paying more attention to Spanish classes after that).

— Taylor and Aiden are not trusted to do ANYTHING together by themselves. Tyler is the worst Aiden enabler ever, if he has a dumb idea she will try to talk it out of him for 2 minutes MAX and then give up and join him instead (if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em). This once lead to them destroying a whole supermarket aisle while trying ride down their trolleys as fast as possible and then the second incident ensued them getting lost for 3 hours at a theme park (the only reason the rest of the gang found them in the end because Aiden somehow managed to sneak into the theme parks control room and use the mic).

— More Taylor and Aiden (because not enough people talk about these two!!!): They’re banned from playing music in the car. Aiden plays the same songs repeatedly on full blast and Taylor's song choices always end up starting a fight.

— Out of all of the gang the ones who get the best grades are Tyler, Logan and Aiden in that order. Logan and Tyler actually try really hard in class which is why they usually get A’s but while the STEM side of Logan’s grades are shining, the English side? Not so much. He’s working on it though! Somehow Aiden gets As and Bs while paying 0 attention in class. Taylor usually gets Bs with the occasional A, Ben usually gets B’s and Ashlyn’s grades have been slipping because of all the stress in the phantom realm, she used to get Bs and As but now she’s been seeing a lot more Cs and even D’s.

— Tyler and Ashlyn get forced to hold hands every time they argue until they apologise. Takes a damn long time for that to happen because it’s Taylor and Ashlyn. Why not just stop holding hands, you ask? Turns out Taylor Hernandez can be a REAL BITCH sometimes.

— Ben is an observer, sometimes when the group hangs out and something interesting happens, he’d sketch it out on his notepad and finish it at home. He also has sketches of all his friends but doesn’t like to show anyone because he’s a perfectionist lol.

— Even though Aiden’s house is the biggest, it’s actually Ashlyn’s house they mainly hang around with because of one thing: her parents. The Banners ended up becoming second parents to literally all of the kids and actually enjoy having them around.

— Adding onto the previous headcanon, Ashlyn’s parents have little details of the kid’s memorised. Like Logan’s peanut allergy, the way the Hernandez twins always linger around to try and help out someway,

— Aiden and Ben have separate rooms but more often than not Aiden usually ends up having spontaneous sleepovers in Ben’s room. Ben doesn’t mind and enjoys the company and Aiden dislikes the memories associated with his room.

— Taylor loves Taylor Swift, Ashlyn hates her for it (if she has to hear love story one more time she will sell Taylor to a phantom).

— Every time they hang out at Aiden’s house Taylor somehow always gets lost.

— They all make a point to show up for eachothers’ personal events e.g Tyler’s baseball games, Ashlyn’s ballet performances, help out at Logan’s greenhouse etc.

— Tyler is a secret romcom lover.

— Logan and Aiden are the resident horror enthusiasts.

[crippledpunks]

if you try to police disabled peoples' diets INCLUDING how they spend their money on food: i just want to ask why? what do you gain from this? like seriously, what do you actually gain from displaying holier-than-thou behavior toward another person's spending and dietary habits? who cares if you would spend your money "better"? you're not them. this is a form of abuse. you literally have no idea what the disabled person can safely digest and actually gains nutrients and energy from. you have no clue, even if you share the same disorder, you are not that person, nor are you their gastroenterologist or other specialist.

telling disabled people to "eat healthier," "eat more salads," "eat more fresh fruits," "eat more fresh vegetables," "eat more grains," and so on can not only be outwardly dangerous for people who have digestive issues like inflammatory bowel diseases, gastroparesis, irritable bowel disease, acid reflux, a history of ulcers, gastritis, and a long list of other digestive health issues, it can outright kill someone if they form a blockage. this can also injure, sicken or kill diabetics, people with non-diabetic low or high blood sugar, blood pressure issues, kidney and liver issues, and many other people.

not only that but you're potentially forcing a neurodivergent person to eat foods that nauseate, sicken, or disgust them, and for what? autistic people know what foods are safe for them to eat. adhd people need to find finds they can manage to keep in their homes without spoiling. dissociative people, people with ADHD, head trauma, develeopmental disorders, other people with memory issues, dementia, alzheimers, psychotic people, and other mental and cognitive health issues need foods they can prepare safely, because many mentally ill and neurodivergent people can't safe;y cook without risk of injury or damage to their home.

people who deal with allergies and intolerances are constantly struggling with being told how to eat when they are the ones who know their experience the most. NOBODY gives a fuck about people with allergies and literally nobody takes food intolerances seriously. i can't digest animal products OR byproducts anymore. i lost the ability. but sometimes i question "maybe i can try it again because this food is cheaper." well. i decided i was spending too much on groceries due to inflation and bought cow's milk instead of almond milk and got so sick it was something i had never seen before. i do NOT need to prioritize "saving money" over eating foods i can safely digest. i had an IBS attack early this morning because i ate some cheese- because it is a "cheap, easy source of protein."

some disabled people need to use certain services like pre-prepared foods being delivered to their homes, be it meals on wheels, or hello fresh. guilting these people for using the services because they could "just cook at home" is insulting to say the least. many of these services have tailored meals with consistent ingredients with limitations on contaminants with allergens.

here's the big one that everyone fucking hates but needs to accept immediately: some disabled people are too exhausted, in pain, dissociated, psychotic, unable to focus, unable to follow instructions, or in other ways unable to cook for themselves and need to use food delivery services like doordash and uber eats.

some disabled people can't or don't want to drive due to their disabilities! blind disabled people exist! para- and quadriplegics exist! people with hand tremors exist! working disabled people exist! amputees exist! disabled parents exist! disabled people who care for partners and family exist!

this one is sooooooo taboo and i'm sick of it. first of all, dashers and uber drivers are every day people who need to earn income. these are people's jobs and their lives are in fact on the line because this is a lot of drivers' primary income. enough with guilting people on this one. i'm fucking sick of it. y'all hate independently employed people and it shows. this isn't a luxury just relegated to rich white moms: disabled people need to have prepared, easy to eat foods delivered to our homes too. y'all need to leave people the fuck alone when it comes to takeout.

the second someone poorer and more disabled than you does something you do regularly, suddenly you're sending articles and giving paragraphs and paragraphs of advice on how to spend money better and how the disabled person "just needs to eat rice, beans, ramen, and frozen vegetables" because disabled people are not allowed comfort NOR convenience in your eyes. this is absolutely asinine. stop it. EATING is not relegated to the privileged

disabled people are people and need to eat. why you are prioritizing money over a literal human need is beyond me this is sick behavior. why do you care so much more about the money than the person ?why is money more important than someone's safety to you? why would anyone rather see someone "spend money the right way" over a human being EATING FOOD and especially foods they KNOW won't make them sick. policing how any disabled person spends their money on food is also unnecessary and abusive. it serves nothing to gain and everything to lose. so what if you think a disabled person spends too much money on food? you do too- we all do: food should be fucking free. get over yourself and let disabled people eat. leave your greed at the door, stop feeling entitled over other peoples' finances and spending habits.

telling a disabled person how to "eat healthier" will not make you healthier, and it will not do them any good, either. all it does is serve to stroke your ego because you believed you ""helped"" someone but all you did was give unsolicited advice that will be forever moot because you do not live in that person's body. don't care if you know them personally: you ain't them. so back off, let disabled people eat. food ain't just for the rich. food ain't just for the abled. let people access food in ways that are safe for us or get the fuck out of our way because all you're doing is causing problems and making disabled people's health problems WORSE.

[transgenderer]

ONE DAY, AS I sat on a field chair in the center of Dauphin Island, the main Gulf of Mexico barrier island of Alabama, I was seized by a reckless impulse. A mound nest of imported fire ants was at my feet, and I was talking about them on camera for a television special, Lord of the Ants. I wondered, as I had many times before, why exactly are these insects called “fire” ants? I had been stung, as have a majority of people who spend much time outdoors within reach of this notorious pest. Usually, however, the attackers are brushed off quickly and the pain is local and temporary.

But I knew these ants can kill you. So, Rule Number One: never sit, stand or fall into a fire ant mound. If you’ve acquired an allergy to the venom, you might suffer the consequences of anaphylactic shock. If you are with a small child who stumbles into a mound, triggering a massive attack, the result also can be life-threatening.

So I had this impulse: with the camera running, a record potentially permanent, why not experience a massive attack— then, of course, end it quickly. I would be able to report definitively why Solenopsis invicta is called a fire ant. Without thinking about it too long, I thrust my left hand (left because I’m right-handed) all the way to my wrist into the center of the mound and held it in place for about five seconds, then pulled it out and brushed off the large number of ants already stinging it.

what the fuck is wrong with e.o. wilson

[disneyprincemuke]

you say nothing back

being in the hospital has never left a good taste in your mouth, even more when it’s your boyfriend that’s on the bed with an iv line connected to his elbow. it’s unsettling, saying ‘i love you’ to someone who’s in the depths of his medication.

you sigh and rest your chin in your palm, propping yourself up with your elbow by the edge of the bed. “you should wake up so i can say it to your face, you know.”

you stare longingly at his still hands when you feel something weigh your chest down.

you haven’t been with oscar considerably long. well, to both of you — and at your ripe ages of barely even turning 23 — 7 months is a very long time to be with someone. though, you find that your more experienced friends and mother disagree that it’s a significant amount of time to be head over heels for a boy.

one thing that they all agree on is the fact that you should have made your feelings clear instead of staying in the grey area together like two idiots. there should be a known status.

but you didn’t feel like you needed it. you and oscar have both agreed that you’re happy where you are, and that things should go at its own pace. take it one day (date) at a time.

these past few days, however, have felt like a fever dream. last week, you almost blurted it out to him when he had driven you home from a full-day date. luckily, you’d caught yourself at the last second and bit your tongue.

you weren’t sure, at the time, that it wasn’t just something you were saying out of habit. you’re usually very loose with the phrase: with your best friends, family, even sometimes yelling it in the bathroom of a club in the late hours. not saying it to oscar felt off to some degree.

in some way, it also felt right.

you can’t believe that it took an accident for you to realise that you are damn sure about saying it to him. now you’re here in oscar’s hospital room with a heavy heart and droopy eyes — you’ve been here for hours waiting for oscar to regain consciousness.

you sigh again, slightly louder this time, and trace shapes over the back of oscar’s hand. “it’s kind of unfair; i said it while you’re unconscious and you’ve said nothing back.”

“because i was unconscious,” you hear oscar croak out, eyebrows furrowed and his head moving slightly as his eyes slowly open.

you barely process the fact that he’s awake. all that floods your head is the fact that oscar has managed to turn his hand over to hold yours in his, giving it a soft and gentle squeeze. he smiles when your eyes widen and lips part at him being awake. “what did you say to me?”

you purse your lips together, face carving into confusion. “what?”

“i was just waking up when you were saying something about saying something to me and not getting a response,” he laughs, adjusting himself to sit up. you scramble to your feet, helping him adjust the pillows behind him to give him a structure to lean on. he thanks you softly, pushing you down gently to sit you back down in your seat. “i was, in fact, unconscious. so you should tell me again so you can get a response.”

immediately, you shake your head and push your seat away from oscar to keep your distance. you’re not risking embarrassing yourself simply because you can’t control yourself any longer. perhaps that’s actually a good thing? maybe you just need to get it over and done with.

“no, it’s really nothing. it’s not even important,” you laugh, hiding your face away to shield the blush that’s creeping onto your cheeks.

“come on,” oscar laughs. “tell me, please?” he gestures to himself with a small pout. “look at me — how can you say ‘no’ to me?”

“you can’t use that as a bargaining chip. that’s foul.”

“there are no rules in life, dear.”

“you’re in the hospital for something that could have been entirely avoided.”

“it’s just an allergy attack.”

“i know! could have been entirely avoided if you’d just told me that you were allergic to seafood, oz!”

“that’s besides the point!” he throws his head back, sniffling softly. he reaches forward for your hand and pats the back of yours. “what is it? you know you can tell me anything.”

you sigh and shake your head. “i can’t. and, it’s really not important.”

oscar drops your hand. he grabs your cheeks, lifting your head to meet your eyes. “please tell me? i promise i’ll listen.”

this is the first time you’ve ever been scared to tell someone you love them. it’s just always come so naturally to you because some small part of you always knew that you’d get a similar response. with oscar, it’s different.

it could be the constant stoic stare or the way that he isn’t typically a person with many words. he’s very reserved and careful with his words; often soft-spoken and not quick with his anger. it’s new to be associated with somebody who is so thought out with himself.

one would even wonder how someone like yourself ended up with oscar in the first place. not that it’s a bad thing, it’s just that you’re opposites. but oscar loves to argue that it’s your extroverted nature that made you fit so well together. you love talking, and he loves listening. if you asked him again, he would tell you that he loves your voice, your accent — hearing you talk.

“oz.”

“just say it,” oscar scoffs, a small smirk stretching his lips. he exhales softly and blinks slowly. “i have a feeling i know what you’re about to say to me. for the record, i feel the same way.”

@cashtons-wife @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification